About a young Iranian man in Denmark looking for a wifely stand-in to solidify his residency, The Charmer is itself a charming film that chooses to reveal all the complexities of this man’s circumstances slowly, shrewdly, one facet at a time.
This method of refusing to disclose the full extent of the main character’s circumstances—as for instance its choosing to withhold information about Esmail’s job, and to have as the first scene a panting enigmatic couple and then a suicide—is so shrewd and enjoyable and so pregnant with meaning and anticipation that it was almost inevitable that what followed let me down, tinging me with the sharp and melancholic disappointment with an almost-good film that could have been good. The front-runners die out.
As an aesthetic whole, The Charmer doesn’t let up—but it disappoints because it is ultimately superficial, revealing in its acting and in its minor characters that it tries (and fails) to breathe life into this Iranian man, who could conceivably be any other Iranian man in the same circumstances. He isn’t fleshed out as an individual.
I noticed the lack of depth in the acting, which isn’t as credible as its script intends it to be; in so many scenes I felt incredulous and that the main character, Esmail, was just going through the motions. I also felt this insincerity in the gratuitous character of the tall widower of the suicide, the one in the first scene, because his purpose is just to inculpate and encumber the slow-moving, feelings-first Esmail. Everything touching his scenes is inadequate or tasteless.
The Charmer still has great moments, and some good acting, even from the disappointing Esmail, and its visual touch is worthwhile and sincere. To say that a movie is disappointing isn’t to say it isn’t worthwhile, only that it leaves a jarring and terrible impression—like that of a cold gust of wind on an otherwise sunny summer day.
